


Putting Back the Pieces (sequel to Shattered Illusions)

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Sequel to Shattered Illusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4485699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay. Shattered Illusions was supposed to be a stand alone. Well, TinkerBella and Sigmund wanted a wee bit more and Buckeye01 wanted to know how d'Art had described the inseparables to Desiree.<br/>So here's the sequel. I think I covered all of the bases. Enjoy, gals!</p>
<p>Also takes place after the events of The Good Soldier.</p>
<p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting Back the Pieces (sequel to Shattered Illusions)

_Early Morning - Musketeer Garrison - canteen_

Casually leaning back in his chair, Treville studied the three men relaxing at a table in the corner of the room. The boy wasn't with them though and that troubled him greatly. It had only been a week since their return from Lyon with d'Artagnan in tow. He was so delighted at seeing the young Gascon ride through the garrison gate that he barely gave the lad time to dismount when he had gathered the boy to him, crushing the child in a hug worthy of the mighty Porthos. When he heard the lad wheezing Treville released the young man so he could get his wind back.

Having had a private talk with d'Artagnan after the youngster had settled back in, Treville found out exactly what had transpired that fateful day over three months ago now. Finding out d'Artagnan had been grievously wounded had come to no surprise to Treville. If the boy had died in the attack, he always thought he'd be able to feel it. That's how he felt whenever the young Gascon was around. Treville figured it was because of his own close relationship with d'Artagnan's father Alexandre and having known the pup since he was a mere babe. He would never tell that to the child though, after all Treville had a reputation to keep up.

Ordering d'Artagnan on light duties for the meantime, despite the lad's claim that he was fine, Treville met with the inseparables in his office one evening to discover what had gone on in Lyon when they located the boy. To say he was astonished at their words would have been an understatement. It looked like Treville would have to keep a close surveillance over d'Artagnan's activities and if it seemed a bit of fatherly advice wouldn't go amiss he'd make sure to dish it out to the youngster.

The one thing that stood out from this travesty of injustice was King Louis' reception of their very own _Lazarus_. His Majesty wouldn't let d'Artagnan out of his sight for fear the lad would vanish under his watchful eyes. It had gotten to the point that the king wanted d'Artagnan to guard his royal personage wherever the monarch went. It appeared that King Louis truly had missed his young champion and was ecstatic to have d'Artagnan back in the fold. For now that wasn't a bad thing as Treville didn't want the boy to overly exert himself. Though from the story Aramis divulged of d'Artagan's escape from the stable it sounded as if the youngster was fully recovered.

Not withholding the truth back from the king, Treville informed him of the younger man's feelings on how d'Artagnan felt not worthy of the honor of wearing his pauldron any longer. His Majesty had listened intently and told Treville that he would do all in his power to bolster the boy's confidence anew. That was enough for Treville to hear and now it would be up to Athos, Porthos and Aramis to do the rest.

++++

_Later in the morning - A small lake located on the edge of the forest, approximately six miles from Paris_

Skipping stones along the water, d'Artagnan stood on the lake's edge enjoying the peacefulness of the day. His duties of late had been easy, too easy actually, and when King Louis had let him get away, d'Artagnan escaped here to calm his mind. Sighing he dropped the small pebble in his hand and went to sit down and rest against a huge tree. Closing his eyes, d'Artagnan thought to catch up on the sleep he had been missing from constantly waking up from his horrible nightmares. Dreaming of being drenched in his fallen brother's blood had become a nightly ritual that had left him the next morning sleep deprived with bags under his eyes. He knew his three closest friends wouldn't let things continue on in this fashion for very long. So he had escaped them and had come here to what he now considered his little oasis. Hearing Zad snort softly near him where he had the horse tied to a tree, d'Artagnan turned his head slightly and grimaced. It appeared that he wasn't going to escape his brothers so easily as Aramis rode up on Belle.

"Quite a place you've got to yourself, d'Artagnan," Aramis smiled as he jumped off his horse. Tying Belle beside Zad he settled himself down beside the boy. "For me it's usually the restfulness of the church," he glanced sideways at the lad to see if d'Artagnan was paying attention. He was more than pleased to see the pup's eyes focused on him. "After Savoy I was never quite the same," Aramis spoke softly of the past. "Twenty brothers gone in the blink of an eye," he shrugged, "or so it seemed to me at the time."

"Marsac survived," d'Artagnan whispered, nearly afraid to bring up the bitter memories of the now dead former Musketeer.

"Oui," Aramis nodded, "as you remember that didn't turn out so well after all," he frowned remembering his old friend and how the years had driven the man to near insanity. "I've told you this before that if it weren't for Athos and Porthos' caring I probably would have blown my brains out."

Arching a brow, d'Artagnan snorted. "Is this going somewhere, Aramis?"

Cuffing the lad lightly on the back of d'Artagnan's head, Aramis huffed. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to listen without complaint to your elders?"

"Oui," d'Artagnan ducked his head grinning.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you when you can't sleep," Aramis gazed off into the distance. "When the nightmares have you waking up in a cold sweat and you could swear you hear the sounds of your brothers calling out to you."

"Is that what it's like for you?"

"Absolutely," Aramis studied the boy's profile for a moment. "But it's gotten better."

"Because of Athos and Porthos," d'Artagnan kept his gaze on the ducks in the lake floating gracefully along, creating ripples in the water behind them.

"Two of the finest men I have ever known," Aramis grinned as he stood back up. "Next to Captain Treville of course."

"Oh of course," d'Artagnan smiled in turn and then felt Aramis grip his shoulder tightly.

"And you, my young Gascon," Aramis winked, "are one of the finest pups I have ever served with and have the honor of knowing."

Blushing, d'Artagnan turned his head away as tears came quickly to his eyes. Feeling the gentle hand of his friend gliding through his hair, he dared glanced upward to see tears reflected in Aramis' own brown eyes. "Aren't we a pair of crybabies, eh?"

"Speak for yourself, whelp," Aramis laughed as he untied Belle's reins and re-mounted. "Athos expects to see you within the hour." Seeing d'Artagnan acknowledge that with a careless wave of his hand, Aramis left the lad alone with his thoughts.

++++

_Early afternoon - Garrison courtyard_

"Right on time," Athos indicated for d'Artagnan to sit beside him on the bench. He shoved a mug filled with coffee toward the boy along with a bowl of stew that Serge knew the lad enjoyed.

"Aramis did say you wanted to see me within the hour," d'Artagnan sat down and began to dig into the delicious stew, savoring its spicy flavor. It should be to his taste since he had given Serge his maman's special recipe for it. Being from Gascony, he liked his food with just that little dash of liveliness to it.

"Child," Athos frowned, "I don't know where to begin with you."

"Simple enough," d'Artagnan said with a mouthful of stew. "At the beginning."

"Brat," Athos smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've never seen you so despondent as I did when we found you at Desiree's. Not even after you came charging at me in the garrison after the death of your father have I ever seen you behave like that."

Letting his spoon drop into the bowl, d'Artagnan wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I had never lost eight brothers all at once before either," he snapped.

Hanging his head down briefly, Athos squeezed his eyes shut tight and then re-opened them. This was not the way he wanted this discussion to go. Angering the lad was never his intention. He should have just let Aramis and Porthos handle things. Talking was never his strong suit to begin with. But seeing the concern in the Gascon's eyes as the boy appeared worried for him now, Athos reached out to grip d'Artagnan's right arm. "If I hadn't been able to get you to come back with us I'd have resigned my commission and stayed with you in Lyon," he tilted his head as he observed the pup's reaction of disbelief.

"You're so full of it, Athos," d'Artagnan scoffed, folding his arms as he studied his mentor. "You'd have given up all of this," d'Artagnan waved his hand about, "being the captain's lieutenant and the respect that went with it for _me_?"

"Oui," Athos nodded. He had meant it with all his heart.

"I don't deserve your loyalty," d'Artagnan shook his head sadly when he realized Athos meant exactly what he said.

"What would I have had left if you were not here with me, eh?" Athos asked the bewildered child. "If you have not guessed it yet, and by listening to you I don't believe you have," he smirked. "I have come to love you as the son I will more than likely never have in this lifetime."

Mouth hanging open in shock, d'Artagnan watched as Athos gently tapped him on the chin, closing his mouth. Utterly stunned by the usually stoic man's words, d'Artagnan could only sit there dumbfounded.

Snorting in amusement, Athos' shoulders shook with laughter. "Appears I've finally found a way to render you speechless, pup."

Finding his voice once more, d'Artagnan got up from the bench to stand beside the older man. "I've always been afraid to let you know how I felt," he whispered. "I miss my papa nearly everyday but you have helped me more than mere words can express," he gripped Athos' hand tightly as his friend stood up. "I've come to love and respect you as much as him." As Athos engulfed him in a tender hold, d'Artagnan rested his head on his brother's shoulder.

Leaning back, Athos observed d'Artagnan once more. "Now, no more nonsense of feeling guilty you couldn't save your unit," he announced sternly to his protégé.

"Message received loud and clear, sir," d'Artagnan grinned cheekily, earning a swat to his rear from Athos. "When does Porthos want to see me?"

Chuckling, Athos pointed near the stable where the dark-skinned Musketeer stood. "I believe that would be now."

++++

_Stables_

"I won't be giving ya a speech on how ya behaved back in Lyon cause I know Aramis and Athos already gave ya a talkin' too," Porthos watched the whelp nervously back away from him. Grinning, he rubbed his hands together. "This is what we call payback for that little stunt with the hay ya pulled on me."

Actually afraid to get close to his friend, d'Artagnan made sure not to stand a safe distance away from Porthos.

"Don't worry none that I'm gonna beat ya ta a pulp, boyo," Porthos tried to get the lad to relax. "I'm just gonna sit here and watch ya pitch hay til it's all done nice and all."

Looking about the stable, d'Artagnan noticed how much hay was actually waiting for him. Scowling, he glared at his friend. "What did you do? Have all the hay in Paris dumped in here?"

Howling with laughter, Porthos threw the pitchfork at the boy. "If ya start now ya should be done by dinnertime."

"You have got to be kidding me!" d'Artagnan threw Porthos a look full of retribution, only to see the other man hold up a finger.

"Now, now," Porthos was more than amused, "tit for tat, d'Artagnan. If ya insist on gettin' even with me over this we'll be back at square one all over again."

Swearing in Gascon, d'Artagnan got to work.

++++

_Late in the day_

"I thought we were supposed to coddle our youngest," Aramis said as he watched their sweaty, filthy Gascon trudge off to his quarters to get cleaned up. "Not make him _slave for the day_ ," his heated gaze encountered Porthos' unrepentant one.

Seeing an argument about to happen, Athos stepped in-between his two brothers. "We all have our ways dealing with the boy, Aramis," he pacified or at least tried too. "Besides, Porthos needed to get even."

"Fine!" Aramis was a bit miffed at their attitude. After all the lad's been through he didn't expect Porthos to be the one to exact that type of revenge. Then again, if he had been the one ending up inside a huge haystack, Aramis might have wanted a taste of it as well.

"Hopefully d'Artagnan will be in a better frame of mind over dinner," Athos said. "I, for one, want to find out how he described us to Mademoiselle Desiree."

"Yeah, she never did say," Porthos had wondered about that too.

"It was disturbing to see how she kept sneaking glances at all of us during dinner," Aramis added.

"We'll get it outta the lad tonight," Porthos winked at his brothers and left to go wash up.

++++

_Haven's Cove Tavern_

"So, d'Artagnan," Athos caught the boy's eye, "how come you to describe us to Mademoiselle Desiree?"

Ah, d'Artagnan thought, so that explains the strange looks he'd been receiving from his friends throughout their meal. A wicked gleam entered his eyes just then making the inseparables a little nervous. "I only mentioned to her that you, Athos, were our eldest and leader of our group. Bearing the weight of that had given you quite a few grey hairs and the countenance of a much older man who liked his drink a little too much on occasion." Seeing the fierce expression thrown his way from his mentor, d'Artagnan did all he could not to lose it in front of the man.

"Perhaps I'm better off not knowing what he said about me," Aramis whispered into Porthos' ear, getting an answering grunt in response.

"Told Desiree to hold onto her skirts as Aramis, being the one with the comely face, had a habit of lifting them up." Watching Aramis spit out his drink all over Porthos made d'Artagnan wince in sympathy for the dark-skinned man's uniform.

"D'Artagnan," Porthos growled in a menacing tone.

"Of course I warned Desire to watch out for her jewelry and anything else of value since your last known occupation, Porthos, was that of a _pirate_." D'Artagnan put his fingers in his ears as Porthos' howl of outrage filled the tavern. All heads turned their way of course as d'Artagnan grinned from ear to ear, satisfied he had done enough damage for the evening.

"You really didn't say all of that to her did you?" Athos arched a brow, his hand itched to turn the lad over his knee and give him a good hiding if it were true.

"I'll leave you three to figure it out for yourselves," d'Artagnan replied easily. Standing up he bowed to his companions. "Bonne nuit, mon freres."

The three stunned men all watched the boy leave, and if there was a slight swagger to d'Artagnan's gait none of them paid particular attention to it. They were more concerned with the impression of themselves Desiree had been left with, courtesy of their whelp.

"I think d'Artagnan's pulling our leg," Aramis murmured, nursing his last glass of wine.

"I wouldn't count on it," Porthos grunted in displeasure, watching the door the lad had just gone through. Wondering if he should go after the pup to ring the truth out of him.

"Gentlemen," Athos drawled, "the hour grows late and apparently I need my bed rest so I won't get any greyer or older before I wake up in the morn." Pushing his chair back, Athos also bowed to his brothers before leaving the tavern.

Catching Porthos staring at him, Aramis snapped. "I'm not about to lift any skirts up tonight, mon ami. So don't look at me like that," he huffed. "Why don't you go practice your pirate tricks on that table of gents over there playing cards."

Surprised he had missed it, Porthos glanced over at the gaming table Aramis pointed too. "Don't mind if I do."

Observing his friend join the other gamblers, Aramis grinned to himself. "At least that was one part d'Artagnan did get right."

The End


End file.
